I thought I heard
the summer die.
It was a small sound
and hollow.
He sat here with me
under this sky made of steam
with a tired smile
and his hat on the floor.
We only said good morning
and that was always early.
But there was one day
of rain,
one shower at midnight.
I hope he will forgive me
his sad sad death.
An old poem, right for the day. It’s from Finding Oakland, which you can have free gratis in the sidebar. 

1 thought on “SOLSTICE

  1. LOVE this. The mood inviting, the bilateral ennui deflecting, the responsibility mutual.That hat on the floor. I'll be walking around it for a few weeks, methinks.

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